


Hair Theory

by cosmicbluebells



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: F/F, Haircuts, Roommates, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-10
Updated: 2021-02-10
Packaged: 2021-03-15 23:35:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,467
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29322519
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cosmicbluebells/pseuds/cosmicbluebells
Summary: Kageyama Miwa has several problems. She needs to buy a new hair mask. Her favourite clothing outlet is shuttering its doors; Tobio hasn’t replied to her texts for a week, and she has a sneaky suspicion he’s forgotten to check his messages for the same amount of time.So: Miwa has several problems, and the most pressing of them is sitting cross-legged in front of the smudged bathroom mirror in their shared dorm room, holding a pair of craft scissors.Alternatively: Tanaka Saeko is stunning even when she's giving herself a DIY haircut, and Miwa has never fallen on her knees for a girl so fast.
Relationships: Kageyama Miwa/Tanaka Saeko
Comments: 4
Kudos: 19





	Hair Theory

**Author's Note:**

> is this just an opportunity for me to wax poetic about tanaka saeko? absolutely. i took many, many liberties with both of their characterizations so um kageyama miwa panicked gay pass it on
> 
> (as always, not beta read)

Kageyama Miwa has several problems. She needs to buy a new hair mask. Her favourite clothing outlet is shuttering its doors; Tobio hasn’t replied to her texts for a week, and she has a sneaky suspicion he’s forgotten to check his messages for the same amount of time.

So: Miwa has several problems, and the most pressing of them is sitting cross-legged in front of the smudged bathroom mirror in their shared dorm room, holding a pair of craft scissors. 

This is not an unusual occurrence.

At this point in their roommate-life, Miwa knows a lot about Tanaka Saeko. Knows that she’s a menace at the wheel, that she dared her brother to shave bald when he was in middle school, that she loves bourbon ice cream with a fervent passion. She owns a motorcycle and an obscenely large collection of vintage tank tops that she wears daily. She cuts her hair with craft scissors. 

Oh, and Miwa has harboured a massive crush on her since even before they were roommates.

Most of the time, it’s easy to disguise. She dismisses her longing stares by telling Saeko she has a piece of rice stuck on her lip; she excuses her unwillingness to initiate contact with a simple ‘I’m tired.’

When Saeko cuts her hair, though, it’s _hard_. Miwa’s in beauty school, for god’s sake, and she has no idea why the other girl still hasn’t asked her for help. 

She sees the pale curve of Saeko’s arm and the glint of her hair, bangs golden in the fluorescent lighting, and then she wants to run her hands through Saeko’s messy locks and pin her down and kiss her stupid.

“Hey,” the girl in question says, pulling her out of her thoughts. The craft scissors are edging closer to her hair and she flashes a playful smirk.

Miwa’s throat runs dry.

She is so gone.

“Hi,” she manages to croak out. Her gaze is still fixed on Saeko’s fingers, wrapped around the scissor loops, calloused and rough from hours of driving her motorcycle.

“What’re you looking at?”

She freezes and looks around desperately. “Looking for my laptop,” she lies, arms flailing. “I have a test to study for.”

“It’s right there,” Saeko points out, a laugh clinging to her voice.

_Fuck._

“Thanks,” she says. “Guess I just didn’t see it.”

She plops herself on the couch and stares at her laptop, unseeing, trying to calm her racing heart.

It’s after fifteen minutes of not-actually-studying punctuated by the occasional snip that Saeko breaks the silence.

“Wanna help me?”

She startles so quickly her head hits the back of the couch. “What?”

Saeko repeats, “You can help me, if you wanna. It’ll probably look better.”

“I—okay,” she answers. “Just let me…grab my stuff.” She almost trips over her feet, returning to the bathroom a minute later with her arms full of products and a pair of hair-cutting scissors to replace the shitty craft ones Saeko’s holding.

“Thanks,” Saeko says, settling back down on the stool. 

“Do you want me to wash your hair first?” Miwa asks, partially out of hairdresser courtesy and partially because she just really, really wants to wash Saeko’s hair.

“Go ahead.”

“Okay,” she says, barely daring to hope. She lays a towel over Saeko’s bare neck, puts down a few plastic bags to catch the hair, and fills the sink with water. “Turn around,” she instructs, lathering her hands with shampoo.

Saeko sits patiently, head tipped back into the sink, relaxing into the feel of Miwa’s fingers rubbing against her scalp. 

The water splashes against the porcelain sink but other than that it’s silent, and Miwa wants to say something but she isn’t sure what. Saeko lets out a sigh, chest rising and falling with the motion. This close, her perfume smells like strawberries, musky and sweet, and the shampoo is coconut-scented. 

Miwa scrubs harder.

“Smells good,” Saeko comments off-handedly.

“Yeah. Everyone says bad-smelling shampoo is the number one turn-off for customers, even though they can just wash their hair again. Haircuts are permanent; shampoo isn’t.” She cuts herself off before she starts rambling and Saeko actually laughs, angular shoulders shaking.

“You’re right,” she replies. “But I guess the promise of expensive shampoo is a big draw for customers.”

Miwa nods, stroking gentle circles around the crown of Saeko’s head. She runs her fingers through the ends of her blonde hair to smooth out the tangles and squirts a dollop of almond-scented conditioner into her hands.

“Your hair is nice,” she tells Saeko, because she doesn’t know what else to say and it really _is_ nice, the colour of spun gold and soft and silky between Miwa’s fingers.

“Thanks,” Saeko says. “I haven’t gotten a proper haircut in a while, so it’s not as soft as it used to be.”

“It’s plenty soft,” she answers, then flushes a deep red. “I mean—”

Saeko brushes it off with a wave of her hand.

She looks almost angelic from this angle, her skin tanned and smooth from hours in the sun and her eyelashes fanned out long over sharp cheekbones. Her chin juts out sharply from a soft jawline. Her arms are dotted with pale freckles.

The water is still running. Miwa turns it off hastily, rubbing Saeko’s head with another towel and tugging the hairdryer off its wall hook. She clicks it on. “Good?” she asks, holding the hairdryer closer.

Saeko nods wordlessly, but Miwa keeps talking anyway.

“I just want to make sure it’s not dripping,” she explains. “It’s a lot easier to cut when it’s wet.”

“Got it.”

Saeko closes her eyes. _Her eyelashes are really_ —

Said eyelashes flutter back open. “Are you gonna start cutting?” she drawls, teasing.

“Right!” Miwa stammers. “Sorry. I spaced out there for a sec.”

Saeko leans closer and _places a hand on Miwa’s arm, oh my god she’s touching her arm_. “Don’t worry.”

Miwa has to physically restrain herself to stop from screaming and running away at the contact. “How much do you want me to cut off? And the…style?” All beauty school vocabulary flies out of her brain. She resorts to hand motions to convey her message, but Saeko seems to understand anyway.

She hums and lets her fingers fall to her side, finally. The spot she touched is hot on Miwa’s arm, like a massive landing pad emblazoned with the words, ‘TANAKA SAEKO WAS HERE.’

“Maybe just an inch off the bottom? I’m planning to dye it pink soon but I don't wanna go too crazy,” she says. “I like my current look.”

Miwa almost says, _I like your current look too_ , but stops herself just in time. It takes immense energy to put the image of pink-haired Saeko out of her mind. “Sounds good. What about the bangs? I can do other types if you want. Your current ones are pretty textured, but you’d look great with see-through bangs. Or curtain bangs,” she finishes, stupidly proud of herself for completing a whole sentence when Saeko’s looking at her with those big brown eyes and thick lashes.

“I’ve always wanted to try curtain bangs.”

“Great,” Miwa responds. “We’ll do that, then.”

She lines up the ends of Saeko’s hair and starts snipping, metallic scissors clipping soft tufts of flaxen hair off her head.

Saeko shifts in the chair, tank top tightening around the contour of her lean shoulders, and Miwa takes a second to remember how to breathe.

_________

When Miwa first meets her, Tanaka Saeko has a helix piercing and a devilish, heart-shaped smile and a tattoo of a bird on her shoulder, and Miwa has never fallen on her knees for a girl so fast.

They’re spectators at Karasuno’s match against Nekoma. Miwa watches Tobio toss and serve and jump like he’s _finally_ learned how to love volleyball again, and a tear wells up in her eye, too fast for her to stop.

A tissue lands in her lap and she looks up to see a girl smiling at her. 

She’s got a choppy blonde haircut, one that just skims the line of her jaw; a low-cut tank top, and a leather jacket. As far as Miwa is concerned, she might as well be the prettiest girl in the world.

“I—thanks,” she says, faltering. “Sorry. Are you…which school are you from?” She looks older than eighteen, but Miwa figures she might as well ask anyway.

“Oh,” the girl says, pointing at the court. “My brother Ryuu is from Karasuno. He’s the number five.”

The bald one. Tobio has been tossing to him pretty regularly. He’s good.

She says this much. The girl raises a perfectly shaped brow. “Tobio?”

“My brother. Number ten,” she clarifies. “He’s a first-year.”

“Ah,” the girl says. “Kageyama. I’ve met him before, actually.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah. I’m Tanaka Saeko, by the way,” Saeko introduces herself, tracing the characters in the air before shoving her hands into her jean pockets. _The name fits her_ , Miwa thinks, in a sort of ironic way. Brazen contradictions and rebelliousness bundled up into one graceful figure. “You?”

“Kageyama Miwa.”

Saeko sits down next to her. Miwa pointedly does not make eye contact.

But at the end of the match, she chances a look back. Saeko’s hazel eyes shift—up and across the bleachers, skimming across the Karasuno banner—and a lump forms in Miwa’s throat.

She’s too bright to look at head-on. So Miwa doesn’t.

_________

They see each other once in a while after that first time, exchanging polite hellos and the occasional hug. Miwa festers in her sad gay yearning and Saeko is blissfully, beautifully unaware.

And then a year later, Miwa gets a text.

from: tanaka saeko

_hey i know this is kinda out of the blue but_

from: tanaka saeko

_do u wanna move in w me? i need a new roommate_

She almost drops her phone in surprise, but eventually manages to form a coherent reply. With shaking fingers, she types, _yeah sure. can u send me more details?_

_________

Now, two years after that text, she stands behind Tanaka Saeko in a tiny bathroom, holding a pair of hairdressing scissors.

Then comes the hard part, because Miwa always, _always_ hates cutting bangs, but more so when she’s only a few inches away from the girl she’s been pining after for three years.

Saeko’s lips are soft and pale pink. Her hair falls into her eyes and she blinks the longest strands away.

Half a minute goes by and Miwa is still holding the scissors lax between her fingers. She snaps her jaw shut and gets to work.

After twenty minutes in which she tries desperately (and fails) not to blush, Saeko’s bangs curl at the edges and frame her face prettily, and goddamnit, this was _not_ the plan when Miwa offered to help.

“Done?” Saeko asks. Her bangs swish with the movement. 

“Almost,” Miwa says, willing her face to go back to a normal colour. She puts down the scissors and presses the backs of her hands to her face to try and cool it down.

(It doesn’t work).

Saeko doesn’t move an inch while her bangs are getting flat ironed and the final touches are placed on her hair, so when Miwa says, “All finished,” she practically springs out of the chair in her race to look in the mirror. The towel falls off her shoulders.

As she ‘oohs’ and ‘ahhs’ over her new hairstyle, Miwa gets to work cleaning up the honey-coloured clumps strewn around the bathroom floor.

She walks back into the room after putting her supplies away and almost hits her head on the doorframe when Saeko sweeps her up into a hug. It’s a little awkward—Saeko is almost a head shorter than her and the walls are cramped, but Miwa’s arm flies out to stabilize herself on the counter and she rests her chin on Saeko’s head anyway.

She smells like strawberries.

“Thank you,” she murmurs, breath ghosting against Miwa’s shoulder. “I was kinda kidding when I asked you for help, but it looks great.”

“You’re welcome,” Miwa says, even as she internally combusts. “I’m glad you like it.”

Saeko looks up at her, almond-shaped eyes wide and sparkling, bangs falling gently around her face, and replies, “I love it.”

And then she cups Miwa’s face and kisses her, hungry and eager.

Miwa practically groans into the other girl’s mouth. Her face flushes hot and Saeko rubs a thumb on her cheekbone.

She whispers, “Stop thinking so hard.”

Miwa has never been able to say no to Tanaka Saeko, so she mumbles a soft ‘okay.’

They stumble out the door of the bathroom and fall onto the couch, giggling. Miwa cards a hand through Saeko’s freshly-cut bob, fingers twisting in her scalp and drawing them closer together.

Saeko eagerly parts her lips and lets Miwa lick into her mouth, her thumb running over Miwa’s jaw when she plants hot kisses across her top lip and cupid's bow. 

"Saeko," she breathes softly, a spark of electricity zipping up her spine and leaving her warm all over.

Saeko groans and says in a raspy voice, "Miwa." 

Then, quieter: “Keep going," when Miwa’s tongue runs across her row of top teeth and she pulls away, leaving a trail of saliva hanging between their lips. 

And quieter still: "You're good at this," when their mouths surge together again. Saeko is in control this time, and she’s sucking on Miwa’s tongue, warm and sweet and entirely too much for Miwa to handle.

Miwa pants for air when they finally let go minutes later, wiping at her spit-covered mouth with her arm. Her lips are puffy and her hair is knotted from Saeko tugging on it, but she doesn’t quite care.

She looks up at Saeko on top of her, knees pinning her down on either side and hair rumpled, and a thought hits her all of a sudden. 

Tanaka Saeko is wondrous. Miwa ponders on the word, rolling it around her tongue slowly. She finds that she likes it.

Wondrous, when she blinks her big brown eyes at Miwa and asks if she can help her cut her hair. Wondrous, when she’s waiting patiently in the chair while Miwa tries to soothe her racing heart. Wondrous, when she comes back to their apartment in the evening and takes off her motorcycle gloves and her hands are dirty with motor oil, her tank top sticking to her chest from the sweat, and Miwa aches for her touch. Wondrous, when she pins Miwa down on their shitty leather couch and steals her breath away.

Tanaka Saeko is wondrous, 155 cm of wonder and sunshine and heart-shaped smiles all curled up in Miwa’s lap.

Miwa wraps a strand of blonde hair around her knuckle and kisses Saeko harder.

**Author's Note:**

> happy femslash february (^∇^*)
> 
> kudos, bookmarks, & comments are all greatly appreciated <3


End file.
